Wednesday, August 27

MD visited his family in Pittsburgh for a few days. He left Wednesday night and returned Monday night. It was the first time I was in our apartment by myself.

Guess what?

I didn't like being without him AT ALL. I missed him so much that I cried a little everyday. Is that romantic or pathetic?

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't in the fetal position hiding under the bed or anything. I had lunch with Breen and Bacon, walked around the neighborhood a lot, finished reading Harry Potter, went out to lunch on my lonesome. All of the things I'd normally do had I still been single in Delilah. The difference is I wouldn't have felt so damn lonely.

I rarely ever feel lonely. I couldn't remember the last time I did, so I actually searched Thighs by "lonely" to find out. I figured I would have blogged about it.

I did. The last time I felt lonely was May 29, 2009. How lucky am I??? That was when Bacon stayed with me in my apartment for a month. So there ya have it! It's cohabitation's fault! Moral of the story - live alone forever!!

Just kidding. I guess it's obvious that with every new chapter in life there will be new feelings and perspectives. I just didn't realize how many.

This weekend I was scared of becoming codependent, that I was going to be one of those women who can't do shit without their man. I've always been so independent and carefree, doing whatever the fuck I want when I want. But what happens if I was independent only because I was forced to be because I was single?
That doesn't seem right, though. Not all single women are independent. I don't know many who would travel to new cities by themselves. And I do plenty of things without MD, like go to museums, movies, shows, and ballgames. I just prefer he was with me, so we can share the experience together.

I always seem to have one friend who is hurting my feelings at any given moment. It usually starts with seeing pictures on social media from a dinner/bar night/house party/trip I wasn't invited to.

I immediately feel hurt, then think well why WASN'T I invited? I'm in that crew of friends. If I invited one of the crew somewhere, I have and would always extend the invite to the entire crew.

Then I think, okay, maybe it was just an oversight this time.

Then it keeps happening.

Usually around the third time I feel completely left out and slighted. Then I start to think well, maybe I did something wrong. Maybe I didn't do enough to keep the friendship going.

So I reach out. If I don't hear back or get a terse response, I know it's done for whatever reason. If I get a sure, let's hang out, I'm golden.

We hang out and have a nice time. A few days later social media shows me I wasn't invited to the next shindig.

WTF?

I'm 36 years old and I still get hurt by "friends". Isn't that sad? I truly don't know how to stop letting stuff like this affect me.

I want answers to everything in life. I need to know why why why at all times. My gut reaction to disappointment is to confront the situation to find a resolution. This time around I'm wondering if I really need to do that.

If I have an issue with a friend who I've known and been close to for a long time, I'd confront her in a heartbeat. We have way too much history to throw it away and in that case, I'd HAVE TO know what the hell was up.

But if the friend is fair-weathered, why do I care so much? Say I did confront them. What would I learn?

If I did something wrong and didn't know it, I'd immediately apologize. Do I want to be friends with someone who isn't woman enough to address the situation from the start, though?

If I didn't do something wrong and I just wasn't thought of, then what? Do I want to be added to the next guest list just because I whined about it? Who wants to be invited to something out of pity? Do I want to be invited just so I can say no?

Blah.

What I should really be exploring is, why give so much time and energy to someone who doesn't deserve it?

Whenever I'm hurt by someone I try to remember that I have many, many wonderful friends in my life and that I don't need to focus my energy on one bad egg.

I also try to be a good friend, too. I like to think I am one. You can tell me anything and I won't judge you. Anyone who's read this blog from the start knows I am the last person to pass judgment! I also make a point of keeping in touch and hanging out when possible. I do bail on plans sometimes, but that's only when I don't feel well. Between my mental and stomach problems, I sadly get sick more often than I'd like at times.

Why is it so much easier to focus on negative people? Is it easier for everyone or just me?

Robin Williams passed away this week from an apparent suicide. It's hard to comprehend. Like most celebrity deaths this is a public reminder that we are mortal, that dying is a part of living.

For those of us with mental illness, it's a reminder that our struggle is very real and sadly, can lead to fatal consequences.

I've been wanting to write all over Facebook about what it's like to have depression, to be diagnosed as bipolar, to me me me his death. I want to shout and scream and say HEY, this isn't one random case, many people suffer, and two weeks from now when you're posting dancing cat videos, I will still be struggling to stay afloat. I didn't do it, though. I'm not sure why. I guess it makes me feel more self-absorbed to declare things like this on social media rather than my personal blog. Maybe I'm a little embarrassed, too. I don't think I've ever "came out" before other than here.

When I was diagnosed as bipolar in January it was, naturally, bittersweet. On the one hand I finally understood why I have such intense emotions and manic behavior. On the other, I felt like my whole life was a lie. Who am I really? Who would I be without my ups and downs? Was I born this way or was it learned behavior to survive my childhood? If I was emotionally stable, would I have left so many jobs? Had sex for sport? Speak my mind? What does emotional stability feel like? Will I know it when I have it? Will I ever be free to be me, whoever "me" is?

It seems the real confusion over Robin Williams' death is understanding how a hilarious man who brought so much joy to people can suffer to the point of no return. The quick answer is to say he was wearing a mask to hide his pain, the old sad clown idea. I don't think this is true, though. At least it's not for me. When I am up I truly feel positive, joyful, connected, and loved. When I am down I truly feel hopeless, despair, depressed, and angry. There are no masks. I've always been a mood ring and could never hide shit about how I feel. And I bet Robin was the same way. Or maybe I just want him to be like me.

This year has been really hard. I started weaning off Zoloft in August, then went to Lamictal in January. I was all over the dosage spectrum starting from 25mg going up to 300mg back down to 50mg. I was down all of the time. My depression, anxiety, anger, and irritability were awful. I hated the world and I hated myself. If I did laugh and smile, it was involuntary. I never really felt like I was doing either, if that makes sense. I didn't want to do anything, except curl up and hide. Basically I didn't want to exist. Thankfully I never reached the point of being suicidal. I wanted to vanish, but not die.

Risperdal was thrown into the mix at some point. I started taking one as needed to help me through my panic attacks. Now I'm on 75mg of Lamictal once a day and .25mg of Risperdal twice a day. I'm happy (YES HAPPY!) to report I feel much better now. I've been on this regimen for three weeks and feel more up than I have all year. I still have some issues, but at least I'm heading in the right direction. It has not been easy trying to find the best dosage. Maybe I'm not even on the best, but I'm definitely on better ones. I hear this is a very minimal amount of medication, so I guess I'm lucky? I don't know...

Lucky to me is MD, who can feel happy, angry, sad, anything without questioning if he's too happy, too angry, too sad, too anything. Lucky is someone who doesn't doubt what they feel and think is real or valid. Lucky is someone who can simply be.

But do I really think having a mental illness is unlucky? Since I'm feeling good, no it's not unlucky. It's a shame to have to go through this, but it is what it is. If I asked myself this a month ago, I'd probably say fuck you you fucking fucktard.

I don't know how I want this post to end. Maybe it's because I don't know how my life with mental illness will end. I hope for the sake of my family and friends, it does not end in suicide. I know this must be a horrible thing to read, but unfortunately it could be the path I take. It could be the path for anyone, really.

Hopefully Robin Williams' death will reduce the likelihood of this happening. Maybe now there will be more awareness and acceptance of those suffering, as well as financial investments into clinical trials and making mental healthcare more affordable. If I didn't have help, I don't know where I would be.

If you or someone you know needs help, please call the Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). You’ll be connected to a skilled, trained counselor at a crisis center in your area, anytime 24/7.